Ruth drank in these intellectual controversies, storing away facts. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. 1.
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